A Trip to the Supernatural Museum
by Unnoticeable Person
Summary: Ever wonder why Al wears a green frock coat? Ivy, Jenks, and Rachel each discover stories that change how they feel in some way. Is there more than meets the eye of our arrogant demon?


I do not own this in any way at all. I make no profit out of it whatsoever. The Hollows series and characters all belong to the incredible Kim Harrison.

"Rache!" Jenks exclaimed while pointing frantically at something.

"What? You see a movie star?" He sounded like when he first met Takada, overly excited and impatient.

He shook his head and said practically about to explode, "Cotton candy! And it's as big as your head! Come on! Let's go get some!"

I couldn't help but smile at his show of child wonder. "Sure Jenks, what flavor do you want? The pink one?"

He looked at me like I suggested drinking toilet water.

"Are you crazy Rache? Pink is for sissies who wear Tink's little dresses! I want blue. Blue is a man's color."

I tried really hard not to laugh at how his face looked so serious about choosing cotton candy based on color.

"Okay, okay, blue it is."

I walked over to the stand and got him some cotton candy. I handed it to Jenks and was surprised to see that he could hold it himself. I saw his eyes sparkle in delight and ate eagerly at the sugary treat.

I sat back on the bench and waited for Ivy to get out of the bookstore. She's the one who dragged us to the mall in the first place. I still didn't know why she didn't want us to go in the bookstore with her. She just said "wait here" and left us while she went and got her book.

I was starting to get really bored when I finally see Ivy walking out of the store with a bag in hand. I turn and found that Jenks already devoured the cotton candy. Problem is he was now as jittery as a coffee addict tied down to a chair. It probably wasn't the best idea to give him all that sugar. Well, too late now.

When Ivy caught sight of Jenks she gave me a sharp look. I tried to muster up as much innocence that I could, but failed.

"You gave him cotton candy?" She asked incredulously.

"It's not like I gave him poison. He's just going to be energetic for a few minutes, no harm done." I tried to rationalize with her.

"Hey! I'm a grown man and can make my own decisions!" Jenks said while hovering in front of Ivy's face.

Ivy just shook her head and decided to just give in because the damage was done and it won't last long anyway.

"So Ivy, why did you drag us here in the first place? I hope it wasn't just to watch you walk into a bookstore while waiting for you on an uncomfortable bench with a sugar-high pixy."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Look behind you."

Hoping it wasn't a joke I turned around to see what she was talking about. I saw a mom trying to calm down her crying baby, a suspicious person in a trench coat who looked like he could be selling brimstone, and a few teenagers doing tricks on skateboards.

"Um, you want me to see the downsides of parenting? I asked while the mother was still trying to quiet down the kid. Jenks saw what I was looking at and said, "One kid crying? She should try a dozen at once. Then _she_ would have something to cry about."

"Or maybe learn how to skateboard? I could teach you. You know, if you want. These kids don't know what they're doing." I said to Ivy while trying to imagine her skateboarding. She fits the motorcycle image better.

Ivy groaned while Jenks snickered.

I turned my face to her. "If you're here to buy some brimstone I'm out of here," I said pointing to the man in the trench coat.

Ivy smiled, shook her head and said, "No dork, the building."

I looked up and saw a sign that read: "Historical Magic"

I looked at Ivy to inform me why I should care.

She sighed, exasperated, grabbed my arm and dragged me to the tiny building.

We stopped in front of it when I saw a sign on a window. I looked at Ivy curiously and she looked pointedly at the sign and then at me. Okay, she wants me to read the sign. Fine, she wanted to be mysterious and not tell me anything. I could handle that.

Okay, not really.

I read the sign:

_Come all, witches, humans, wares, vampires, and anything in between. Welcome to the Museum of Historical Magic. You will see incredible things from the 17__th__ century from the magical beings of history that humans were never allowed to know. Now that everything is out in the open, you can now see history with the knowledge you know now of the supernatural. _

Wow_. _So this museum is about magical people back in the 17th century? That's something new. Why would a museum be in the middle of a mall?

I looked to Ivy, waiting for another explanation. Of course I got none. She just smiled knowingly and went inside. I had no choice but to follow her.

I walked inside and then I stopped and stared. The place looked like it came from the 17th century. Purple drapes that looked hand-made, table that looked crafted from the finest carpenter, even the paintings that lined the walls looked so elegantly crafted I could have sworn I was looking at my old textbook in history class.

My face must have shown how amazed I was when I saw Ivy smirk.

I turned to her, dazed, and I couldn't find anything to say but, "I wished they had museums like this while I was in school. It'd be one hell of a field trip."

I almost forgot about Jenks until I felt something tugging at my ear. "Hey, Rache, look, there's a pixy statue over there."

I looked around and about 10 feet away I see a tiny statue, about the size of Trent's elf statue. But there weren't any elves on the statue, but a pixy with a sword that looked like a piece of iron.

I walked over to the statue and saw that there was a plaque next to it. Jenks read the plaque:

"_Dev, leader of his pixy clan, defeated 100 faeries to save his family and garden through extraordinary strategy, excellent use of the battle field, and determination that will live on with his memory." _

Jenks looked up at me, awe in his eyes. I couldn't blame him. What this Dev did was indeed amazing, but what was more amazing is that someone actually cared enough about a pixy to document what he did. And someone actually put it up in this museum so people could see that pixies were anything but useless. Who's the owner I wonder?

I looked around for Ivy and saw that she was nowhere in sight. I looked back at Jenks and saw that he was still staring at the statue with respect, lost in his thoughts.

Okay, I guess I will go see what Ivy's up to and leave Jenks alone with the statue.

I searched through the aisles filled with people's past accomplishments and saw Ivy in front of a huge painting of a man in a black mask. Her face was so focused on it, so enraptured that she didn't notice I was standing right beside her until I said, "Cool paining, huh?"

I saw her eye twitch in a rare show of surprise. I smiled smugly. It wasn't very often that I got the drop on Ivy.

"Oh, Rachel. I was just-"

"Being a total history geek?" I filled in the gap for her.

She shook her head. "It's not that. This is my ancestor. I never heard of him though."

That got my attention. I turned back to the painting to see if I missed something, and then I saw it. The man in the black mask on a dark horse had fangs. How I missed that the first time I looked at it I haven't the faintest idea.

I turned back to Ivy.

"His name was William Tamwood. He was an undead vampire, but to the people in the 17th century he was nothing more than the man who kept to himself in the woods," she said while still looking at the painting.

That still didn't explain why he was in this museum though. Why would an undead vampire be in a museum that recognizes good deeds by the supernatural? Undead vampires don't do anything to help anyone but themselves.

I looked down at the plaque and read:

"_William A. Tamwood was an undead vampire known as the 'Night Rider."_

The 'Night Rider'? Well they weren't really original with naming.

"_He would come at night to drive off any soldiers that were burning down homes or causing any damage. He would bare his fangs and ride his horse until the blinding sunlight signaled him to ride for another night."_

"_One night, in particular, he had to deal with an army. They all came to take revenge on the one known as the 'Night Rider'. He killed many singlehandedly and saved many lives. Unfortunately, he was forced in a troublesome situation when the General cowardly took a hostage and demanded that the 'Night Rider' would go with him and the few of his men that remained. The 'Night Rider' agreed as long as the General left the town alone he would go with him willingly. So William left with the men, his arms bound around his back."_

"_On their way out of town however, a young girl stepped in and tried to block their way. The General held up his sword and started to charge at the girl. William broke out of his restraints and went in front of the girl. The sword struck William's heart, but with William's last burst of strength he ripped the General's heart out. They both fell to the ground. William faced death for the second, and last, time." _

An undead vampire who sacrificed himself for others? That's impossible. Although as I thought that, I saw Kisten, dying for the second time, while protecting me. Okay, not impossible, just highly unlikely.

Ivy was still looking at the painting like it held the meaning to life. I could only imagine what her thoughts were right now.

Well, since everybody else found some awe-inspiring piece in this place maybe I will to. I started to walk in the direction of the witch section. I browsed through everything. Some witch created a spell that saved her town, cured a disease, and produced water to the town during a drought, all the typical heroic stuff.

I was about to give up when something caught my eye.

A green frock coat.

My first instinct was to look around and see if he's here, or to listen to see if I hear a British accent. I sniffed the air to make sure there was no burnt amber smell. Nope. No sign of him anywhere. Well, except this coat in a nice clean case.

Why the hell does this museum have Al's coat? Certainly Al didn't do any good deed besides staying in the ever-after and away from me.

"Ah, yes, this is one of our unique pieces we have here. It's one of my personal favorites," I heard from behind me. I nearly jumped ten feet in the air.

I spun around to see who in the Turn just scared the crap out of me.

It was an undead vamp. He was about 5'10, had curly black hair, and dark green eyes, when he wasn't vamping out, that is.

He decided to not acknowledge that he caught me by surprise and extended his hand, "Beck Elmer. I am the owner of this museum. These are the pieces I have collected over my very long life to certain individuals that interest me."

I shook his hand, meeting his eyes hesitantly. I do not trust undead vamps. This guy may appear nice, but I've learned that it's the ones that appear nice you have to look out for. "Rachel Morgan." I saw that his eyes widen a little as I said my name. Jeez, does everyone and there cousin's cousin know who I am?

He smiled, showing perfect, straight teeth. "Pleasure to meet you," he said and took a graceful bow. Oh, great. Polite and charming. Yep, this one is as dangerous as a Pomeranian. He may appear nice and harmless but when you turn your back he shows you his claws and bites you on your ass.

"Likewise," I said blandly.

"I see that you are interested in this piece. As you see, the majority of what is in here is paintings, statues, and forms of jewelry. This, however, may appear to be nothing but a nobleman's clothing."

Yeah, but the only person I know that wears that isn't any nobleman. Not by a long shot.

"Ah, but my pieces are not of art-bases value, you see, but on life-base. People live on this earth for only a small amount of time. Even I do, vampire does not mean immortal."

I give him brownie points for admitting that.

"They all leave their stories behind, their dreams and sacrifices. But the stories in this museum that I have collected are the ones that are unique. These are the ones that stand out to the rest, the ones that you look at and _feel_ something. Such as amazement, puzzlement, awe, or in some cases, regret."

That little speech would have been more believable if he actually _could_ feel. But I'll still play along, just because I want to know about the coat.

"So what was so special about the individual who wore this coat? What did he do?" I asked curiously. This could mean something about Al.

Beck smiled like I just said he could rule the world. "His is a remarkable story. None like any other."

This guy is worse than my old principal back in high school. He would always try and built suspense before saying what needs to be said. It makes you want to scream 'get to the damn point already!'

I bit back my impatience and waited for him to tell me the story already.

"His name was John Green, also known as the legendary businessman. He was originated in Britain during the 17th century. That green frock coat was his trademark. He chose the coat specifically because it matched his name. The man was all about appearance, like many businessmen. He was flashy, but never did unnecessary things. He was impeccably smart and cunning like a fox. Though he had many talents and dressed like a nobleman, he was just a merchant, he would appear every now and then at night. And appear did he. He could sell pebbles at the price of diamonds, rags at the price of custom wear, meat that has long since expired, and as long as he said the words just right, people would line up and buy whatever he was selling, no matter how low-class it was. And they would smile and say there thanks like they just got an amazing deal."

Beck shook his head. "He was truly a force to be reckoned with."

Let's add up the facts:

The stupid frock coat was his trademark.

He was British.

He was dramatic but never pushed it to a level where it would be dangerous.

He was smart and cunning.

He would appear at night and only was there for a short time.

He could sell anything and people didn't even think they were cheated.

It all added up to one person, or should I say, _demon. _

Al was in a museum made for supernatural people that did good deeds.

I wanted to roll over and laugh until my insides came on the outside but I need to find out what he did to be here. I highly doubt that he saved children from a burning building.

Instead of laughing, I did a fake cough to force some of what I felt out. This is ridiculous. Al shouldn't be in a museum for good deeds. Hell, they should make ten whole museum dedicated to all of the bad deeds he's done in the past 5,000 years.

"For someone who was more like a criminal, it summons the question of why A-, um, Mr. Green Bean is here."

He didn't seem fazed that I called the legendary businessman Mr. Green Bean.

"He may have been something of a rule-breaker, but he never killed anyone."

Shows what you know, Becky.

He continued, "But the main reason he's here is because he made use of his talents for good, to save the whole town from being annihilated."

I stared at him open-mouthed. Al did _what_?

Seeing my face he said, "Let me elaborate. One night, he was passing through like he normally does, selling his goods, when the mayor of the town shows up and says that his talents can be used for more than just tricking his customers. Green said, "Especially since I have many talents."

I rolled my eyes. Typical Al. Even hundreds of years ago, he was always such a conceited demon.

"The mayor proposed that if he helped the town he could have all of what's in his safe. Green accepted."

Of course he did. To show off how great he is and gets rewarded? That was just how Al operated.

"Green had to go up against the government. His job was to ensure that they wouldn't abolish the town and give them the supplies they would need to survive."

I bet that was a piece of cake for Al. He could have done that in his sleep. I was about getting tired to hear how great Al was, until Beck said, "He accomplished that and more. He convinced them to give weekly ships of food and water and clothing at a startlingly low cost. He even got them to give the town the best architect in all of Britain to help build more schools and hospitals. He made them from the town with the most poverty, to the most prosperous town."

_No freaking way._

This is Al we're talking about. The most sadistic, bitter, cold-hearted demon I know. He never did things outside the deals he makes and certainly not in less favor to him.

Beck smiled, seeing my reaction. "But that still isn't why he is here in the museum."

I fixed my gaze to his. If getting the town to be the most rich and blessed town in Britain didn't get him in here, what else could he do to be here? Hell, did they make him a Saint? St. Al? Ha. That would be the day.

Beck continued, "The most astonishing thing he did is that when he came back and the mayor was about to give him his reward Green just said, "Now your town is even better to sell my goods in. Keep your paltry change in your miniscule safe." And then he walked away. And after that night the legendary businessman was never seen again."

There was no way that Al would just walk away from what he earned in a deal. He just walked away without leaving any parting threat or painful wounds? This was Al, right?

I just asked for the hell of it, "Did he die?"

He shrugged. Can't say, they never found a body."

"Are you sure this story is true? Did you ever meet him?" He could, considering he's an undead vamp.

"Nope, never have gotten the pleasure. But my brother did."

"Who was your brother? One of the ones he scammed?" I asked with a bit of sarcasm.

He shook his head and replied, "No, the mayor."

I blinked at him. He smiled knowingly. "He told me this story right before he died. He said it was the most selfless thing he has ever seen. He couldn't believe that a human being could do something like that. I tend to agree, that's why I put this piece in the witch section."

"Wait, you don't even know if he was a witch or human or ware and he's in the museum?" I asked, shocked.

He shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhh. That's my secret. I think he was a witch because he had to have done something magical to be able to do what he did. No one's that good at manipulating people."

'No one but Al', I thought.

Suddenly, I see Jenks right in front of my nose. "Hey, Rache. Time to go. Ivy's waiting."

It figures that she expects us to wait who-knows-how-long on a wooden bench with splinters, but when I want a little extra time to spend somewhere she doesn't wait even five minutes.

I extended my hand out to Beck. "Thank you for telling me that story, Beck. It means more to me then you know."

He shook it, "Any time, Rachel. It was great meeting you. I hope one day I'll be able to collect your story and put it in here. After all, you are one of the most unique individuals I have ever heard of."

I didn't like the sound of that. I do not want to be in the same museum Al's in. Even if he was Santa Clause and brought joy to the world.

"Goodbye Beck," I said as I left the little museum.

Jenks, Ivy, and I arrived back at our church; each of us having stories we had to digest. Jenks went to the garden to see his kids.

"I'll be in my room," Ivy said.

Just when she had her back was turned, I grabbed her bag out of her hand. Before she could snatch it back, I pulled the book out to discover it was Rynn Cormel's sequel.

I looked at Ivy and saw that her cheeks were flamed in embarrassment, very out of character of Ivy. "Rynn told me to buy it" she mumbled and snatched it back. She shut her door and then there was silence.

Well, that was unexpected, although, a lot of things were unexpected today. A smile crept up my face as I had an idea.

I got my scrying mirror out and placed my hand on it, focusing my thoughts on Al. There was only one way to be sure he was John Green the legendary businessman.

Al picked up right away. _"Itchy witch? What did you do this time?" _

I am highly offended that he thinks something is wrong, despite the fact that whenever I call him something usually is wrong.

"_Nothing Al. Or should I say John Green, legendary businessman?"_

There was a pause until he said, _"I think you are mistaken Rachel. I do not know any particular individual of that name."_ Then he hung up, a little hastily, I might add.

There is my confirmation. Al is Green. I felt a smile turn my lips. I am _so _going to call him Green Bean from now on.

I still can't get over the fact that Al actually did a good thing though. He saved a whole town and it wasn't even to his benefit. It made him seem moreof a _person_. I felt a knot in my stomach and I felt something that wasn't there before when I thought of Al. But he's still an evil sadistic demon. After all, one good deed is not enough to even out all the other horrible things he's done.

But he still wears that green frock coat. Why? Does it remind him that he is not a total monster? That he is possible of making decisions not based on self interest? I don't know. What I do know is that it is very unlikely that Al will ever do a good deed like that again. "_Unlikely, but not impossible,"_ I thought in the back of my mind as I looked at the blue butterfly sitting by the window.

AN:

I just thought of this randomly. It started out as, "I wonder why Al wears that green frock coat?" And it turned into this. I wanted Rachel to see a different side to Al without him actually showing it to her. If Al actually showed a different side of him Rachel would just think he's trying to manipulate her. But if it's an outside source telling her about Al she would have to consider the truth of it. Anyway I hoped you liked it. I am kind of curious what you guys would think of this so please review!

P.S. I just had to add the blue butterfly at the end.


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